Buy Me Love
by Arigatomina
Summary: Yaoi, 3x4, Repost. In order to escape death, and his fiance, Quatre hires Trowa to play his lover and bodyguard.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This is an old fic. I just realized I never reposted it after ffnet's ban on nc-17 content, and since it isn't available on my mediaminer account either, I'm reposting it here. I'll probably rewrite it at some point, and tag on an epilogue.

Category: AU, Gundam Wing, Yaoi, romance  
Pairings: 3x4  
Warnings: slight violence.  
Author: Arigatomina

Buy Me Love

Part 1

It was a simple assassination, but it required an efficiency beyond that of a simple criminal. Word traveled quickly in the underground making its way to the best hit man for hire there was. The job was to be done in two week's time, leaving Nanashi little time to check the information he'd received. Having completed a job without checking once, he always made certain the target was exactly what he'd been told. He had no problem killing one young slave trafficer, especially for the amount he'd been promised. He, however, had no intention of taking the life of another innocent.

He'd been given the name of the mark, but no further specifics were supplied until he'd officially accepted the job. That was fine, though, he had ways of finding things out for himself. Unfortunately, little was known about Quatre Reberba Winner. Sixteen years old, he was the only son of the Winner tycoon who'd died one year ago. He was heir to the Winner fortune on his seventeenth birthday, two weeks away. If he was spending his money in a slave market, there was no evidence.

Thus Nanashi took to watching the Winner mansion. His surveillance paid off late one night. Actually, his watch read 2:17 a.m. when he spotted a cloaked figure climbing down the railing on the backside of the house. From the one picture he'd managed to find of the Winner heir, he knew him to be blonde. So when the figure's hood fell back as he jumped lightly to the ground revealing pale golden hair, Nanashi knew it was him.

There was no reason for the boy to be out, especially sneaking as he was, unless he was up to something, so Nanashi followed him. It seemed his information had been accurate when the figure, hood back in place, headed straight into the worst part of the city.

.-.

It was stupid, what he was doing. Pure insanity, really. The gun he'd hidden in his pocket was of no comfort to him as Quatre walked as quickly and silently as he could through the shadowed alleys. He'd heard that anything could be found and bought in the black heart of the city. Or anyone for that matter. And Quatre certainly hoped so, his life depended on it.

Quatre gave a sharp cry as a strong hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, swinging him around and slamming him into the brick wall of a building. Standing very still, Quatre let his fear show as his hand slowly slipped into his pocket to close around the gun. Light glinted off the man's eyes as he loomed over Quatre, hands holding his shoulders against the building as he smiled at the wide-eyed boy.

"Well, well. What do we have here? You're awful pretty to be walking around all by yourself. I wouldn't be 'gainst giving you some company."

Lower lip trembling, Quatre shrank back, shoulder flinching under the man's hands. "I-I d-don't have any money. I'd give it to you if I did-really. Please...don't hurt me."

The man's smile widened as he leaned closer, foul breath burning Quatre's eyes. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. You and me're going to have a little fun, is all." Releasing Quatre's shoulder, he gripped his short thick hair, pulling his head back. Turning his head, he kissed the boy, grunting with satisfaction when he didn't resist. He had just slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth when he felt something hard pressing into his stomach and heard a click.

Moving slowly, eyes wide in shock, the man moved back, releasing the boy as he looked down at the large gun held confidently in Quatre's pale hand. He raised his own hands slowly, eyes narrowing in anger as he looked at the blonde boy. Gun pointing at the man's midsection, Quatre glared as he turned his head slightly, spitting on the ground as he wiped the back of his free hand over his mouth in disgust.

"So you're a feisty one, huh?" the man rasped, angry yet wary as he stood motionless. "Well, unlike some, that's not my preference. So why don't you put down the gun before you get hurt."

Letting out a slightly shaky breath, Quatre stepped away from the wall, not taking his eyes or the gun off the man. Then the man suddenly smiled, and Quatre froze as an arm slipped around his neck, lifting him off the ground. _I failed...but I was going to die anyway._ Choking from the grip on his neck, he brought the gun up, shooting the man in front of him in the shoulder before lifting his arm higher to aim the gun at the injured man's head. One hand clutching the arm that was cutting off his oxygen, Quatre was determined to pull the trigger before he lost consciousness.

Suddenly, the arm was gone and he was falling. He hit his knees, forcing his head up to see the man he'd shot disappear into the night. Falling on his side as he gasped for breath, Quatre turned the gun on the man behind him. The men behind him.

Stepping away from the body at his feet, Nanashi stared at the boy, raising an eyebrow as he looked to the gun now trained on him. Eyes flying from him to the body, the gasping boy slowly lowered the gun. Kneeling, Nanashi wiped his knife on the dead man's shirt, glaring in the direction the other man had fled. He'd had good reason to interfere as even if the boy was a criminal, he'd be unable to make his death look like an accident if he'd stayed out of it. Besides, he'd hated the two men for some time.

Standing, the green-eyed boy looked at Quatre who'd gotten to his feet and, still breathing hard, was leaning against the wall. "You shouldn't be here if you can't take care of yourself," he said slowly, voice monotone. Straightening, the boy slipped his gun into his pocket, eyes wary.

"I...have no choice. I need to hire someone."

Eyes narrowed, Nanashi looked at the boy. _Here it is. He'll sign his own death warrant._ "What's the job?" The boy's light eyes grew dull and his expression hardened as he stood, back straight.

"I need someone who will live with me for two weeks and pretend to be my lover. I can pay." Quatre waited, obviously prepared for any sort of reaction. He was still caught off guard by the fury in the green-eyed boy's expression and his hand slipped into his pocket.

"You fool," the boy spat, flicking his long red-brown bangs out of his face. He shook his head at the blonde boy, not missing the hand in the pocket as his bangs fell to cover half of his face. "Don't you know what kind of response you'd get if you went deeper into the underground with an offer like that!" He stopped when he saw the confusion in the boy's gaze. _I **was** misinformed. Again._ "Does the job include sex?" he asked, his theory confirmed when the pale boy flinched, eyes dropping in humiliation.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Why?"

Quatre looked up, pain evident in his eyes. "What?"

"Why do you need to hire a lover?"

Frowning, Quatre looked away. "I'm supposed to get married, but the girl I'm to marry is planning to kill me after my birthday in two weeks. I overheard her. My family wouldn't listen to me when I told them." Looking back, he glanced at the other boy's blank expression. "They're convinced I need someone to take care of me. I don't know anyone. If I can make them think I already have a lover, a strong one, I'm sure they'd cancel the wedding."

"Why don't you just run away?"

Quatre shook his head quickly, hands raised in entreaty for the boy to understand. "I don't dare do that. With me gone, one of my sisters would inherit and she'd be targeted instead. I can't let that happen."

Nanashi nodded slowly. _Fools. They should not have lied to me. To think that I might have had the death of another innocent on my head._ His mouth twitched with a smirk as he eyed the boy. _I'm a mercenary, a man for hire._ "Any specifics on the person you want to hire?" he asked, voice carefully controlled.

Quatre let out a relieved sigh as he realized the boy was going to help him. "Strong," he said, thinking quickly. "He can't be too old." His eyes flicked to the dead man and he blushed abruptly. "No one violent. He has to follow my orders."

Following the boy's gaze, Nanashi eyed the blush. "I'm for hire," he said slowly. "I don't think you'll find anyone else to fit your specifications. Anyone you asked would simply take you hostage the moment he found you had money." He waited as the boy stared at him then Quatre nodded sharply. "When do I start."

Quatre took a deep breath, staring at the boy. _I can't believe I'm doing this. But...he can't be much older than me. They'd believe it._ "How much do you charge? If...if you can come home with me tonight, I can give you partial payment tomorrow and the rest after my birthday in two weeks."

"And if I wanted more than you can pay?" Nanashi asked, amazed by how naive the boy was.

"I'm desperate. I'll pay what I have to."

"Alright then, I can get anything I need tomorrow." The boy smiled suddenly and Nanashi was startled at how lovely he looked.

"Come on, I'll show you to my home. Oh," Quatre's smile widened as relief surged through him. "What's your name?"

Still taken back by the way a smile lit up the pale boy's face, Nanashi blinked. "I have no name," he said slowly. "But if you must call me something it's Trowa. Call me Trowa Barton."

.-.

_He's so trusting. Naive. I could kill him and everyone in this house. Little fool. He's so innocent._ Trowa raised an eyebrow when Quatre entered the room. His eyes moved over the pale blue pajamas he'd changed into. They matched his eyes.

Quatre moved past Trowa quickly and sat on the edge of the bed. "I don't think any of my clothes would fit you," he said slowly. Trowa was about a foot taller.

"That's fine." Enjoying the boy's discomfort, Trowa caught his eyes and slowly pulled off his dark gray turtleneck. "You don't mind if I sleep in my pants?"

Blushing, Quatre shook his head quickly. _It was so easy in theory. I don't know if I can pull this off..._ Sighing, Quatre quickly slipped into his bed, blushing again as he gestured to Trowa to join him. "They come in to wake me every morning. I thought it would shock them to find us together, make the story more believable."

Nodding, Trowa sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes before stretching out beside the blonde boy. Not meeting his eyes, Quatre reached over and clicked off the light switch. Minutes passed as Trowa lay on his side facing the boy. Quatre was on his back, staring at the ceiling, when Trowa spoke he flinched. "This isn't going to work."

Turning on his side, he stared at the green-eyed boy with wide eyes. "No?"

"How many lovers would sleep a foot away from each other?"

"I don't know," Quatre said quickly, "I've never slept with anyone. I'm sorry, I thought this would be easy. Now...I don't know what to do, how to act."

"For starters," Trowa said slowly as he realized he might enjoy this charade, "We should get used to touching each other." Not waiting for a response, he pulled Quatre to him, closing the space between them. "No one's going to believe we're lovers if you wipe your mouth every time we kiss." Trowa smirked at the blue-eyed boy's blush and brushed his lips over Quatre's. Rubbing the smaller boy's back, Trowa smiled slightly before kissing him again.

Quatre quickly realized how right the other boy was. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relax as Trowa's lips moved over his. The contact was nice; the movement of his hands over his back was soothing. Opening his mouth, he brushed his tongue over Trowa's lips, a warm feeling running through him when the arms abruptly tightened as the tall boy pulled him closer.

Allowing Quatre a sense of initiation, Trowa moved his tongue into the boy's mouth, stroking Quatre's back until hands touched his chest. Aware that his control was close to slipping, Trowa ended the kiss. Moving his lips close to Quatre's ear, Trowa whispered, "It gets easier, doesn't it." Quatre sighed. Lying on his back, he pulled the smaller boy with him until he was curled against him.

"This is nice," Quatre whispered, smiling as he rubbed his cheek against Trowa's warm chest. "Is this how lovers sleep?"

"It'll do," Trowa said, smirking as he wrapped his arms around the boy. "Go to sleep. You'll have a lot of acting to do in when we're found in the morning."

Rather than marveling at the sense of security Trowa's arms gave him, Quatre decided to simply enjoy it. "Alright. I don't actually have a plan, I'm going to play it by ear." Quatre sighed, "Good night, Trowa." His response was a momentary tightening of Trowa's arms around him, but that was good enough for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Quatre woke to the sound of breaking glass. Eyes snapping open, he lifted his head to see Trowa watching him with one eyebrow raised. Blinking, Quatre followed his gaze to see two of his sisters standing in the doorway, the lamp that had sat on his desk lying broken on the floor. Blushing furiously, Quatre glanced at Trowa who smirked slightly, before looking to the girls again. A minute passed as the four stared at each other, then the screaming started.

Folding her arms over her chest, Ireia glared at Trowa and Quatre. "What's going on, Quatre?" When the blonde boy exchanged glances with Trowa again, she took an angry step forward. "You answer me, Quatre! What is this boy doing in your _bed_!"

Since Quatre didn't seem ready to 'play it by ear', Trowa decided to speak up. "Until you came crashing in," he said, voice monotone, "I was watching Quatre sleep." Ignoring her outraged gasp, he looked down at Quatre who stared at him for a second in surprise at his gall, then covered his mouth, stifling a giggle.

"I want to know what's going on, right now!" Ireia shouted, starting to turn red. "Quatre, stop laughing this minute! Your behavior is intolerable. I--"

"No." Trowa glared at the girl, giving Quatre a slight squeeze around the waist when he looked as if he was going to say something. "Quatre will explain in his own time, or not at all. I think you should leave."

"How dare you! Who do you think you are?" She looked from the angry green-eyed boy to Quatre who was watching her, bottom lip held between his teeth. "Quatre?"

"Ireia, I...I didn't want you to find out like this. Can you wait until after breakfast? I promise, I'll explain everything then."

"At least let me get dressed before you start questioning us," Trowa said, eyes narrowed as he sat up carefully. The blanket fell down, exposing his bare chest but hiding the fact that he still had his pants on. As it was, it had the effect he'd hoped for, causing the girl to gasp in shock and blush bright red before quickly turning her back on him. Grabbing the other girl who was still staring from the doorway, she fled the room with an affronted cry.

Getting out of the bed, Trowa crossed the room, shutting the door firmly. Then he turned back to Quatre who was practically sagging with relief at having postponed the confrontation. "You should get a lock for your door," Trowa said, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. "Although they were definitely shocked so your plan worked well."

"You can say that again," Quatre said with a small smile, pushing the covers back as he sat up. "I'm glad you spoke up, Trowa. I froze. I couldn't think of a thing to say. When I do explain, I'm going to have to plan what I'll tell them ahead of time. I'm really bad at playing it by ear." Suddenly, he smiled. "But you were great! When you told her you were watching me sleep I thought Ireia's eyes were going to pop out of her head!"

Smirking when the blonde boy laughed, Trowa leaned forward a bit, catching his eyes. "I _was_ watching you sleep."

"Oh." Blinking at him for a moment, Quatre blushed. Scooting off the bed, he hurried to his dresser. "Hope I didn't snore," Quatre said quickly as he grabbed some clothes.

"You didn't." Turning, clothes in hand, Quatre's eyes widened as he watched Trowa put on his turtleneck. Catching the boy staring, Trowa raised an eyebrow, smirking when Quatre glanced away abruptly. "Do you want me to join your family for breakfast?"

Turning in surprise, Quatre frowned. "Of course. No matter what, we always act very civil at mealtime. In fact," he smiled wryly, "it isn't often that any of my sisters get angry or upset. I think I'm going to see a new side of them in the next week."

"What about you?" Trowa asked, looking over his sweet face. "Do you get angry often?"

With a soft laugh, Quatre nodded. "All the time. I guess that's why they don't pay much attention to what I have to say. I'm the only son, and the youngest child, so they tend to treat me like a child despite my age. If I get angry I'm just 'throwing a tantrum'. It doesn't matter if I have a right to be angry." Looking over Trowa's expressionless face, Quatre grimaced. "I do sound like I'm whining. I'm going to change, I'll be right back."

.-.

Breakfast was interesting, to say the least. While many of Quatre's sisters had been married years ago, nine of them still lived with him. And as rumors fly among close siblings, all were watching the stairs when Quatre and Trowa came down. Nodding to the table in general, Quatre grabbed Trowa's hand.

"This is Trowa," he said quickly, gesturing for him to sit at a spot conveniently left empty beside Quatre's seat. "These are my sisters. You'll have a chance to get better acquainted after breakfast."

His was the last word said. He couldn't help his urge to pick at his food and thereby postpone the confrontation. When the tall boy beside him touched his shoulder lightly, he turned. With a significant glance at the boy's plate, Trowa arched an eyebrow and smirked. Sighing, despite the smile that made its way to his face, Quatre finished his breakfast.

Looking up, he found that the girls hadn't eaten much either, all nine were watching him with expressions that ranged from curiosity to anger, to betrayal. Meeting Ireia's pointed look, Quatre pushed away from the table and stood up, tossing an appreciative smile to Trowa when he stood as well. "We'll be waiting in the den when you've all finished eating." Knowing he had about two minutes before they gave up all pretense of being interested in food, he grabbed Trowa's hand and quickly left the room.

.-.

Smiling at Trowa, who squeezed his hand quickly before releasing it, Quatre stood and walked to the center of the large den, turning slowly to look at each of the girls before stopping to face Ireia. Taking a deep breath, he began.

"This is Trowa Barton, my lover. We've been seeing each other for a while and we decided we had to tell you now, especially since the wedding is only a week away. I'm very sorry I hid this from you..." Mustering up his most soulful expression, he looked at his sisters. "I was afraid you wouldn't accept the fact that he was a boy. Last night I decided to tell you. That's why I had him stay. I didn't mean to shock you this morning," he looked at Ireia, "but I was afraid if I let him go last night I would lose my nerve." Stopping, he gave them a chance to respond.

Ireia, who was now the oldest sibling in the house, stood, no doubt having been selected to be the voice of her sisters. "What I don't understand," she said slowly, "is why you thought we wouldn't accept him. Have we ever done anything to make you think we were prejudiced? That the sex of a person is more important than whether or not there is love? Do you have any idea how much it hurts to think that we almost forced you to marry Dorothy when you were in love with another?" Glaring at the wide-eyed boy, Ireia nodded sharply. "You should have told us as soon as you realized you were in love. It hurts to know that you wouldn't share something so important with us." Looking Trowa over critically, she frowned. "While I'm not sure if I approve of this boy, the fact that he's your lover makes whether or not I like him a moot point." Silence reined for a minute or two, then she sat down. "I don't know how we're going to explain this to Dorothy. She's been really excited about the wedding."

Looking away as he remembered the way his sisters had not believed him, Quatre moved to sit beside Trowa on the small couch. For some reason, Dorothy had made a good impression on his sisters and they'd been very unhappy when he'd accused her of plotting his murder. Thinking of the way her voice had sounded when she'd talked about his death, Quatre glared. He certainly would not worry about how to break the news to her.

Silence continued until Trowa spoke, looking around the room at the girls. "Quatre told you my name, but he didn't tell me what your names are."

.-.

"It went great!" Quatre cried happily, shutting his bedroom door and rushing to give Trowa a hug. Pulling back, he grinned up at the tall boy. "I can't believe they actually gave you permission to stay here. And they didn't even suggest marriage! I had no idea they were so...modern in their views. I was sure they'd throw a fit when they found out I had a lover and wasn't married yet. God, I should have just done this to start with and not bothered trying to get them to believe me about Dorothy."

"Who is she?" Trowa asked as they sat next to each other on the edge of the bed. "Why do your sisters like her so much?"

"I think they like her because she has a very strong personality. She says whatever she thinks without worrying about how people will react. I," Quatre looked down in self-disgust. "I admired her for that."

"How long have you known her?"

"Not very long. Actually, it's only been about a month now."

"As protective as your sisters are, I'm surprised they would think to marry you to someone they've only known for a month."

Looking at Trowa, Quatre nodded, brows drawn together. "I wondered about that myself. I guess it's because I'll be inheriting soon and they'll be getting married and leaving. I think they are in a hurry to set me up with someone so they won't have to worry about my being alone. It's nice to know they care, but I wish they had more faith in me. They'll probably always see me as the baby, the youngest child, only son, and runt of the litter."

"I don't blame them for feeling that way," Trowa said, smirking when Quatre shot him a sharp look. "I've known you for one night, and I still feel the emotions you call up in people. I don't know if it's the way you look, or how kind and trusting you are, but you have an air about you that screams, 'I'm fragile and sweet, protect me.' " Now the pale boy was glaring in anger.

"I am _not_ fragile," Quatre said sharply, giving Trowa a warning glare. "I can't help it if I'm a short blonde with blue eyes, blame my mother. Just because I'm not as strong as you doesn't mean I'm weak. And kind? How kind am I, if I wanted to kill that man last night? And I was ready to do it, too."

"That doesn't mean you're not kind Quatre. You were angry. And I didn't say you were weak." Enjoying the way his pale blue-green eyes sparked, Trowa smiled. "And I wasn't complaining about your appearance. You look very nice." Quatre blushed and Trowa's smile widened a bit. "I was just explaining why people treat you like a piece of precious china. But don't bother worrying about it, Quatre. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't change your spirit. And your spirit exudes sweetness."

"You make me sound like a saint," Quatre muttered, shaking his head as he looked at his hands where they were folded in his lap. "I'm not perfect and I wouldn't want to be."

"Not a saint," Trowa said slowly, eyeing the boy's downcast expression. "Saints don't kiss like you do." When Quatre turned to look at him in surprise, Trowa leaned forward and their lips touched.


	3. Chapter 3

The job had changed. Although he knew Dorothy Catalonia had not yet been officially notified of the change in plans, word had traveled to her and she'd changed the order. Since he'd not notified anyone as to whether or not he'd accept the job, his informer assumed he would and passed the changes on to him. Now it no longer mattered if the boy's death looked like an accident so long as he was dead before his birthday. Of course, Trowa had no intention of taking the job. He'd dropped the idea the moment he realized Quatre was an innocent. Now, he was determined to protect the boy and thereby get back at the girl who'd lied to him. And thanks to Quatre's creative plan, he had an easy way to be in contact with the boy and not arouse suspicions. Not to mention the added bonus of playing Quatre's lover.

Although he'd had no intention of taking advantage of the boy when he'd agreed to the charade, Trowa wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. Yes, he'd gone home with the boy to keep him from getting himself killed or worse by offering the 'job' to the scum that resided in the city. That, however, did not make him a priest. He had as many urges as any other hot-blooded teen, and from the way Quatre responded to him, the blonde boy did as well. Trowa refused to harm innocents, but educating them in a very pleasant way was another matter altogether.

Returning to Quatre's residence after his stint in the underground, he couldn't help but wonder what the boy thought of their...relationship? _Yes, it is a relationship. I'm not sure whether I would be considered a prostitute since I am getting paid, but it is still a relationship._ Smirking when the butler bowed slightly to him and opened the door, Trowa entered the large house. It still amazed him how easily Quatre's sisters had become accustomed to the idea of their little brother having a male lover. Yet they had, and they were even pleasant to him. Nodding to the butler, Trowa looked around the empty front hall.

"Do you know where Quatre is?" he asked the man who was standing at his post beside the door.

Nodding to him, the man's expression remained carefully neutral as he flicked a hand toward the stairs. "I believe Master Quatre is in his room."

Even the servants treated him with respect. Trowa marveled at this house full of people who were so different from the ones he'd known his entire life. Even with the anger the girls had shown him yesterday, he couldn't help but feel that they were all very gentle people unless they were protecting a loved one. _Or themselves_, Trowa thought as he remembered Quatre's gun. Nodding to the butler in thanks, he made his way up the tall staircase, eyes roaming over the pictures on the wall. One caught his eyes as he reached the upstairs hall and he stopped to look at it.

A very small blonde boy, no doubt Quatre, was hanging onto a tall man's hand. The boy was smiling, eyes wide and shining with the simple happiness of the very young, and the man was looking down at him, a small smile playing at his lips. Glancing over the other pictures, Trowa noticed that it was the only picture of Quatre, despite the numerous pictures of girls, one or two of which Trowa recognized as the boy's sisters. The only picture of the son, and, if his suspicions were right, the only picture of the father. Although he had no intention of ever asking, or getting the chance to ask since he would be gone in less than two weeks, Trowa wondered what had happened to the man. Looking again to the tiny boy smiling up at his father, Trowa shook his head. _So sad that he left such a large and...kind...family behind._

.-.

Not having gotten a response to his quiet knock, Trowa opened the door and paused in the doorway, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Not paying any attention to the boxes that were piled on the bed, he shut the door silently and moved to stand beside Quatre. The boy was sitting at his desk, head resting on an arm as he slept. Not waking him, Trowa let himself admire the boy's features. He really was a beautiful boy, especially when he slept, so peaceful. Some of his hair fell over his face, golden against his light skin, his long lashes standing out as they lay on his cheeks. _Who would want to hurt someone like him?_ Unable to get angry with the sweet boy sleeping so close to him, Trowa sighed. _He **should** be protected. He may not be weak, but he is fragile._ Blinking at the strange direction his thoughts were moving toward, Trowa walked to the bed.

Taking the boxes, he set them against the wall where they would be out of the way. He pulled down the edge of the covers and went back to Quatre, slipping an arm around the boy's chest and moving him away from the desk. He made a slight protesting sound when Trowa bent to pick him up, frowning and opening his eyes a tiny bit. Picking him up, Trowa smirked at him when the boy blinked blearily and frowned some more. "You obviously need a nap."

Still sleepy when Trowa set him on the bed, Quatre smiled a little and caught his hand. "I should get up," he said slowly. "I have things to show you and--" He abruptly cut himself off with a large yawn which he hid behind a hand before grinning weakly at the tall boy who was still smirking at him. "Sorry...umm..oh. Ireia has tickets for the opera this evening. I want to go." Yawning again, he made a disgruntled sound.

"Then you definitely need to take a nap now, otherwise you'll end up falling asleep in the middle of it," Trowa said, not quite giving in to his urge to laugh at the boy's struggle against sleep.

"Then you'll go with me?" Quatre asked as he kicked off his shoes, not bothering to set them at the foot of his bed as he normally did. "I was hoping you would."

"Of course I will." Tilting his head, Trowa looked at the boy. _Doesn't he realize that according to our agreement I have to do pretty much whatever he says?_ As Quatre yawned yet again, Trowa did laugh. _Poor thing._ "Alright, we'll go but you have to take a nap."

"Don't make it an order," Quatre protested although he did pull back the covers so he could climb under them. "It's not like I'm six. Besides, if you make it an order then I won't do it. And I _want_ to take a nap." Smiling at Trowa's expression, he blinked rapidly. "You should take a nap too."

Smirk returning, Trowa eyed him carefully. "Is that an order?"

"Huh?" Quatre looked confused for a second, then he grinned widely. "Yes! I order you to take a nap with me." Blushing with pleasure when Trowa laughed, he pointed beside him on the bed. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Trowa removed his shoes before pulling back the covers and climbing onto the bed beside the boy who was looking very proud of himself. "Well, since I'm obeying at the moment," Trowa said slowly, wondering exactly how playful a mood the boy was in. "Any other orders for me?"

Pale blue-green eyes lighting up even as he blushed lightly, Quatre nodded. "Kiss me."

Eyes narrowing, Trowa pulled him into his arms and moved until their lips were an inch apart. "Yes, Master Quatre," he breathed before following the boy's order to a 'tee'.


	4. Chapter 4

Trowa woke quickly, his first thought one of surprise since he hadn't expected to actually fall asleep. Opening his eyes, he looked to the empty spot beside him, wondering how the boy had managed to get out of the bed without waking him. Turning his head as he sat up, he spotted the boy in question digging in one of the boxes he'd set aside earlier. An eyebrow raised at the boy's muttering, he climbed out of the bed silently and moved across the room until he stood behind Quatre. Seeing the pale blue coat he was grumbling at, he smirked and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Jumping, Quatre turned to glare at him for a moment, eyes sparkling. "Don't do that." Holding up the coat in his hands, he gave Trowa a pitiful look. "Pastel! _Again_. Do you know they used to make me wear _pink_? I don't get it. I just don't see why I can't wear black or white or _anything_ but this...pastels."

With a sharp laugh, the tall boy bent and took the coat from Quatre's hands as he looked from it to the blonde boy. "It matches your eyes."

This brought a smile to the disgruntled boy's face, but it was short-lived. "Well, you have green eyes but I wouldn't expect you to wear a green tux. That's it." With a determined look, he stood and grabbed one of the unopened boxes, carrying it to the adjoining bathroom. "I'll be right back," he called, not glancing behind him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Trowa smiled as he imagined the blonde boy dressed in pink. He could see both sides as he had to admit Quatre looked adorable in his...pastels. Still, he could understand why the boy would want to choose his own clothing. _But black...?_ When the bathroom door opened, Trowa turned, not sure what to expect. Then his eyes shined at the lovely picture the boy made in white.

"Well, what do you think, Trowa? This doesn't look that bad, does it?"

Shaking his head, the tall boy stood. "You look very nice."

"I picked it out myself," Quatre smiled, then went to the boxes again, holding one out to Trowa. "This is yours."

Suddenly wary, a moment passed before he took the step to Quatre and accepted the box. "It isn't green, is it?" Laughing, the smaller boy shoved him toward the open door he'd just come out of.

"Go try it on," he said happily as he folded his arms over his chest and looked smug. "I wouldn't put you in green anymore than I'd enjoy wearing blue." Pausing, he suddenly shook his head. "At least when it comes to a tux."

Hiding his groan, Trowa entered the bathroom and changed quickly, pausing in front of the mirror on his way out. Blinking in surprise, he turned to look at his reflection, green eyes narrowing as he eyed himself critically. _That's me,_ he thought, straightening his back as he turned to look at his profile. _I...look so different. I could be one of them..._ Tearing himself away, he reached for the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder as he pulled the door open and left the room.

_Oh my God, he's so **handsome**._ Eyes wide as he looked at Trowa, Quatre felt his cheeks flush. There was something about seeing the tall boy clothed in his black dress-clothes that sent an excited current through him. Noticing how uncomfortable the other boy seemed, Quatre forced himself to stop staring. "You look wonderful," he said honestly as he stepped to the still boy.

Seeing the way Quatre looked at him, Trowa frowned. Then the shorter boy moved to him and laid a hand on his chest, pale blue-green eyes glittering. _Is that lust?_ Tilting the boy's chin up so he could see in his eyes, Trowa swallowed sharply. _Definitely. It is._

.-.

Watching the performance with happy eyes, Quatre curled closer to Trowa in their private box. Catching his sister's glance in his direction, he blushed as he remembered the heated kiss he'd shared with the tall boy before they'd left. He was surprised at himself, he had wanted to simply skip the show and stay in his room with the gorgeous boy. Looking up at Trowa for a moment as that boy's arm moved around him, Quatre sighed.

He really wasn't sure what was happening to him, only that the thought of Trowa leaving scared him. It scared him because the thought hurt. To imagine going to bed and not having the green-eyed boy with him caused a physical pain in his chest. To not have his arms move around him, holding him while he slept. What hurt the most though, was the thought of not seeing him, the realization that once his birthday was past the boy would be gone.

Glancing down, Trowa couldn't help but notice the sad expression on Quatre's face. Pulling him closer, he rubbed the boy's shoulders as he kept his eyes on the woman who sang from the stage. Viewing the boy from the corner of his eye, he let out a silent sigh when Quatre's unhappy expression smoothed out, not ceasing his soothing motion on the boy's tense shoulders. Eyes virtually glued to the stage, Trowa fought a small smile when the boy beside him slipped an arm around his waist, moving as if he would become a part of Trowa's side. Turning his head, he gave in to the smile as Quatre's eyes closed, the boy obviously comfortable in his arms.

.-.

"Whoever it is, I've never seen him before."

Glaring at the man beside her, Dorothy leaned forward, glasses gripped tightly in her hands as she watched the two boys across the large theater. "I'll just have to take care of him too, then," she said, cold fury audible in her voice. "I could just kill him but those sisters wouldn't force the boy to marry me so soon after he lost his lover. No, they both have to die."

"But what if Ireia won't marry that guy? Even if we kill the kid, it does no good unless she marries Christopher so he'll inherit from her."

"She's in love with him," Dorothy said darkly, a smirk twitching her lips as she pushed her long pale blonde hair over her shoulder. "She'll marry him whether the boy dies or not. We just have to kill off Quatre so she'll inherit and then...it's her turn."

"Who would have thought he'd turn out to be gay." Shaking his head, the man was unprepared for the death-glare the girl turned on him.

"Shut up. I should have known he was gay from the first time I saw him. He's so damned weak looking. But it doesn't matter. He won't be around much longer."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Warning:** Lemon content_

Slipping into the bedroom, Trowa released Quatre's hand as he turned, shutting the door behind them and turning the new lock that he'd installed the day before. Looking to the blonde, he felt himself react to the way his eyes were shining. Moving forward, he reached out to brush the unruly hair away from Quatre's forehead so it couldn't shadow his wide eyes. He knew what the smaller boy was feeling, but he wasn't sure if he should let him act on it. Trowa knew he was becoming attached to the sweet boy, and he could imagine how much that attachment would grow if he made love to him. It would be that much harder to leave when things were over.

"Trowa." Moving forward, Quatre wrapped his arms around the tall boy's waist, head tilted back as he looked into those beautiful green eyes. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" Moving a hand over Trowa's back, he stroked his fingers over the back of his neck, standing on his toes as he brushed his lips over Trowa's.

"Quatre, I don't think..." His words cut off by the small boy's mouth and Trowa pulled him close, arms tightening automatically as he felt that lithe body press against him. _Maybe the future doesn't matter. He wants this, and so do I..._ Hand moving to bury his fingers in Quatre's thick hair, he kissed him deeply, letting out a harsh breath as he felt the boy's hardness press against him. Although rational thought didn't actually stop, it might as well have as he moved forward, directing Quatre towards the bed.

Frowning when the tall boy moved back a bit, Quatre opened his eyes, blushing when he saw Trowa's hands move to unbutton his shirt. It didn't take long, and although he felt oddly vulnerable with his chest bare, he was consoled when Trowa took off his own top, setting them on the nightstand before moving to stand before him.

Pushing the pale boy back so he sat on the edge of the bed, Trowa bent and gave him a light kiss, pulling back to look at him, expression intense and serious. "Is this what you want?" he asked softly, then he lifted his hands to brush them over Quatre's chest, fingers circling his nipples and causing him to draw in a sharp breath. "Or do you want more?"

Blushing as he heart sped up, Quatre licked his lips. Staring up at Trowa, he curled his hands into fists for a moment before taking a deep breath. "More. I want _you_, Trowa."

"Alright." Holding out a hand to direct Quatre to wait, Trowa moved into the adjoining bathroom, narrowed eyes searching for anything to make process easier before falling on the lotion that sat on the edge of the sink. Grabbing it and a towel, he moved with eager quickness back into the bedroom, setting his prize on the stand before returning to where Quatre waited, eyes very wide. "Tell me if you want me to stop, or if I scare you," Trowa said softly.

Nodding quickly, Quatre moved back on the bed, arms moving around the tall boy as he spread the towel beneath them and knelt beside him, their lips meeting with fervor. Tongue moving against Trowa's, he felt his body burn as it had earlier that evening, and he gripped the boy's muscular back as he pressed their bare chests together, reveling in the contact. With a low sound, Trowa moved forward, his weight and height angling the smaller boy back on the bed as he leaned over him, hands caressing his skin as he drew Quatre's tongue into his mouth, sucking on it lightly. Fingers circling his nipples again, Trowa growled lightly at Quatre's soft moan, moving his lips to taste the soft flesh of his neck.

Tilting his head as he nipped the smooth skin of Quatre's shoulder lightly, Trowa moved lower, tongue brushing over one of his nipples and making the boy jerk beneath him. Then he opened his mouth, sucking on the nub as he used his teeth to toy with it, encouraged by Quatre's cry as he felt a hand move behind his head, fingers threading through the short hair as the small boy pushed upward. Putting a damper on his urgency, he took as much time as his body would allow, caressing both nipples before lifting his head to push his tongue into Quatre's hot mouth, rewarded when the stimulated boy moved against him frantically, hands holding him very close.

Breaking the kiss, Trowa ran his hand down over the pale boy's flat stomach, fingers hovering over the button to his pants. Breaths coming faster, he paused, looking into Quatre's eyes as he prepared himself for the possibility of having to stop. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, voice strained. "If I don't stop now, I may not be able to later."

Meeting Trowa's hesitant gaze, Quatre let out a harsh breath, forcing his voice to work. "Please...don't stop."

Not waiting for him to change his mind, Trowa's deft fingers made quick work of the clasp, and it didn't take long to rid them of their remaining clothing. Catching Quatre's blush as he viewed the lovely body beneath him, Trowa bent for a kiss, lips trailing the boy's ear as he rubbed their lengths together. "I've never wanted anything the way I want you," he whispered, voice hoarse, breath catching as he felt Quatre's hips jerk upward for more contact.

**--Lemon found:**

www . geocities . com / arigatomina (underscore) gwfics / buy5 . html

-

Heart beating so fast it was hard to breath, Trowa fell onto his side, pulling Quatre close to him as they lay exhausted. When their breathing finally calmed, Trowa forced himself to move, his body wanting nothing more than to remain next to the small boy's. Making it to his knees, he slowly got off the bed, pulling Quatre to him as his legs calmed enough to hold him. Lifting the boy who was smiling blissfully, Trowa grabbed the towel and carried him into the bathroom, setting the towel on the edge of the tub before sitting on it while he ran a hot bath. Waiting for the water to finish running, he moved to kiss the sweet boy on his lap, nuzzling Quatre's neck before resting their foreheads together so they were eye to eye. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as he looked into those beautiful eyes, and he could swear he saw love there.

Unwilling to believe it, he forced himself to simply enjoy the moment, knowing that he'd never forget it for as long as he lived. The feel of Quatre in his arms, the way his eyes shone into his, it was so perfect he wanted to engrave the moment on his memory. When the water was high enough, he turned it off, standing as he stepped into the tub, sitting down and setting Quatre in front of him so they were facing each other. Trying to express his feelings through a kiss, he pushed the boy back against the end of the tub as he pulled a rag off the rack, washing them carefully as he placed a shower of kisses over Quatre's smiling face, lips brushing over his cheeks and forehead before planting a kiss on the tip of his nose causing Quatre to blush. Once they were clean, he hurried to let out the water, knowing if he stayed there too long he'd want to take the boy again. He'd be too sore for that, and Trowa didn't want to test his ability to resist the temptation.

Standing Quatre on the rug, Trowa pulled a clean towel off the rack, bending as he toweled him dry. He knew the blonde could have done this for himself, but he relished in being able to do it for him, in having leave to memorize that beautiful body and feeling Quatre's soft gaze on him as he did it. Once they were dry, he lifted him again and carried him back into the bedroom, loving the way Quatre immediately wrapped his arms around his neck and pressed his face to his chest. Pulling back the covers, he knelt on the bed and laid Quatre down, not wanting him to get dressed. Tonight, he would have everything perfect, and he lay down beside the smaller boy, holding him close as he pulled the blankets up. Quatre was so soft against him, and he let out a content sigh as he felt the boy brush his lips against his neck before letting sleep take him. Even if this was all going to end soon, Trowa was determined to carry the memory of this night with him forever.


	6. Chapter 6

"Who?" Leaning forward, the drunken man nearly pitched off his stool, large hands catching himself on the bar at the last second before he leaned again, trying to see the figure hidden beneath the black cloak.

"Nanashi," Dorothy said with sarcastic patience, gritting her teeth at her fury. She despised having to ask such a fool, but she had yet to hear from the assassin and was about to turn to someone else. His name had trickled to her slowly when she put out notice of the original hit and she'd been under the impression that he had accepted it. But when she'd asked to speak to him, no one seemed to know who he was, the name, or lack thereof, actually had people running. Literally, as she remembered how quickly one drunken man had left the bar at her soft-voiced question. Her patience had quickly run out and she was faced with the prospect of killing the boys herself which would be dangerous. "I am looking for a hit man who goes by the name, Nanashi. Have you heard of him?"

Blinking owlishly at what he now saw was a woman, the man smiled widely and leaned back, wincing when he hit his back against the bar. "'Course I have. Everyone's heard of ole No-name. Ya don't want to be messin' with that one. Why just a couple day's ago he done killed my partner, slit Rally's throat like a melon. My boss was sure angry about it, too."

"Excellent. Where can I find him?"

"Oh, you won't be finding him, not if he don't want you to. That's a ghost, that boy is, sneaky as a rat in an alley. Does what he wants and's a neat killer too. Why, no one's lived who's gone up 'gainst him."

"Do you know anyone who could locate him or get a message to him?" Dorothy asked, catching the derogatory looks her guards were giving the man. She would prefer to ask someone else, but so far the drunk was the first one to tell her anything about this mysterious Nanashi. "I can pay." Smirking, she saw that those words still worked magic as the man's eyes glowed.

"Can ya now, well, my boss might be willing to talk to ya. So long as you can compensate him for his time, he's a busy one. But he just might know where that one is, has had a problem with that kid before and he don't like him a bit."

"How old is this Nanashi? Have you seen him yourself?"

Dorothy shot a quelling look to Justin, wishing she hadn't brought him. The man wasn't accustomed to the underground and he had a softness about him that was bound to get him into trouble. Unfortunately, he was also the dark side of a pair of identical twins and the only way he'd agree to his part of the upcoming plans was if he got to be there during the preparations. If his brother wasn't the good one she could have used him instead, but he would never participate in something like this. Eyes narrowing, Dorothy raised an eyebrow at Justin's stupidity. The man actually thought his brother would remain unharmed. The fool.

"Well," the drunk man said slowly, his eyes moving to the man. "He's young, but deadly. I can't be seen tellin' what he looks like, it's dangerous, know? Nope, I'll leave that to my boss."

"Fine," Dorothy said quickly. "Let me speak to your boss then, now. I don't really have the time to be wasting it on someone who can't tell me anything."

"Hey, if'n I bring you to him, you'll have to be compensating me. I have to work, you know, can't just take time off to take you to him."

"Work? Getting drunk?" She sneered but waved her hand at the door. "Fine, I'll 'compensate' you plenty. Now get moving. I haven't got all night."

.-.

He only moved a bit, but the strong arms around him tightened momentarily before relaxing and he smiled at the boy's reflex. Scooting back another inch, he was finally able to see Trowa's face, and he looked over it with a sigh. The boy had beautiful features, refined, aristocratic somehow despite the fact that he'd met him in an alleyway. And he was soft-spoken and polite and kind and gentle and... Sighing again, Quatre smiled. There wasn't anything about him that he didn't like, not a single feature or characteristic. He was perfect. And now they were lovers in fact as well as name. His face heated as he thought about the dull ache he felt, but he would gladly have had worse if it meant the same thing.

His worries were over, the act had snuffed them out. Before, the boy holding him had been an employee, merely acting out a part of Quatre's design, but now they were truly lovers. Although his sisters tried to shelter him, he knew about lovers. Trowa wouldn't have to leave now, he'd have a reason to stay even after his birthday had come and gone. Although he might choose not to stay in the house with him, Quatre was certain they could still see each other on a regular basis. Trowa wouldn't simply disappear from his life like a shadow. Relief surged through him and he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, hugging him tight.

Watching through his eyelashes, Trowa saw the boy press against his chest and couldn't resist running a light hand through that golden hair. Quatre looked up quickly, and he held firm as he met the smaller boy's gaze, loving those bright eyes. Pressing a soft kiss to the boy's forehead, he flinched when a tongue brushed against his neck and he pulled back. "Quatre..."

Smiling, Quatre brushed those long red-brown bangs to the side, his hand cupping the tall boy's cheek. "I didn't get to tell you how wonderful that was. It was...beautiful." Looking down, he smiled. "Just like you."

"I'm not--" Trowa stopped when a soft giggle tickled his neck and he raised an eyebrow at the sound. "What?"

Rubbing his nose against the muscled chest, Quatre smiled, not looking up. "I always thought girls were supposed to be beautiful," he said softly, placing a kiss on the skin so close to him. "But you are. Deny it all you want, you're beautiful to me."

Coldness swept over him at the sweet boy's words and Trowa felt his heart contract with actual pain. "There are things you don't know about me, Quatre. I..." He didn't want to say it, couldn't. The thought of the boy leaving his arms was too much. He couldn't bring himself to ruin that one perfect night holding the angel. As much as he wanted to be honest with the blonde, he just couldn't do it.

"I know," Quatre said softly, breaking the silence. "I don't know anything about your past, but Trowa. I don't think it would make any difference. I know how you treat me, that's enough. It's all that matters."

Closing his eyes tightly, Trowa couldn't speak, couldn't disillusion the boy who seemed to think so much of him. Slender arms wrapped around him and he could feel Quatre's head on his chest. Minutes passed before the boy's smooth breathing reached him and he realized he'd fallen asleep. Letting out a deep shaky breath, he stared at the black ceiling, eyes burning in the dark air. _I love you...so much..._

.-.

"You should have told me." Dorothy stared at the blonde boy, taking in the coldness of his blank expression before she glanced to where Ireia was. Quatre's manner seemed off to her, and she couldn't help but feel that he suspected something. The girl looked very guilty, and Dorothy sighed slowly, brushing her long, pale blonde hair over one shoulder. "I won't bother to act as if I'm not upset," she said softly, "but...I was afraid of this. You see," her eyes widened and she looked at the boy's sister sadly. "I was so surprised when I first met you all, that Quatre hadn't already been...snapped up." With a fond smile, she let her eyes move over the blonde boy before staring at the tall one seated beside him. "You have a wonderful person in Quatre."

Trowa gave a sharp nod, keeping his own expression clear as he gave Quatre's hand a light squeeze. He knew how hard it was for the boy to sit through Dorothy's act, but it was no easier for him. If he'd had his way, he'd have killed her already. The fact that Ireia seemed completely taken in almost made him lose all respect for her. But even he had to admit, Dorothy was good. "I've never met anyone like Quatre," Trowa said, his tone void of any emotion as he tried to keep his eyes from blazing at the girl.

.-.

"I feel so bad for her," Ireia sighed, leaning her head on the man's shoulder as Christopher put an arm around her. "But Dorothy...she took the news very well. I'm amazed at her pride."

"I sympathize with her," Christopher said softly, his eyes glinting as he looked at the young woman beside him. "I'm sure I would have been furious if it had been me and I'd learned that you had a lover you'd never told me about. Although," he suddenly frowned and looked off into the corner of the room, his humor barely audible. "It would certainly explain why you don't want to marry me."

"Christopher." Ireia gave the man a light shove, her blue eyes glinting when he turned with a smirk. "I most certainly do want to marry you. I just want to be sure Quatre will be all right without me. Once I leave, the others won't stay around long."

"I guess you don't have to worry anymore. I'd say he's more mature that you knew. Hiding that boy like that..."

"I still can't believe he did that," Ireia scowled. Then she gave a light laugh. "I'd never have expected it from him. He's always been so sweet and naive, it's hard to remember how old he is."

"Ireia. You aren't still worried about him, are you? Didn't you say Trowa was strong enough to take care of him?"

"Physically," she muttered, "But he's so...emotionless. I'm not sure Quatre would be happy with him."

"But he is," Christopher smiled, noting how the girl flushed lightly.

"Definitely."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"Of course," Ireia said quickly, smiling when he looked smug.

"Well, I think that you are the one who's afraid of being without him. Your little brother's finally grown up and you don't know how to let go."

"You know me too well," she muttered, but she smiled when he placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Yes I do, dear, I do."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Warnings:** lemon, minor angst, violence  
_Author: Arigatomina  
Website: www . geocities . com / arigatomina

Buy Me Love

Part 7

The evening was going so well, Quatre was reluctant to leave Trowa's side, even for a few minutes. While it had been a bit awkward at first since the tall boy didn't know how to dance, he was a very quick learner and graceful. To say the boy swept him off his feet was nothing shy of the truth, and it was with a bright smile that Quatre left him. Weaving his way through the other dancers, he made it to the back of the large room, greeting his host and hostess with a grateful nod. He'd been surprised to receive an invitation from them, but then, he didn't usually take part in society functions. Ireia had been quick to tell him that his little trip to the Opera had made him an open figure and he'd be expected to attend certain functions in the future. But he didn't mind at all if Trowa accompanied him.

The back hall was deserted with the late hour, and Quatre's step quickened as he climbed the stairs to where the restrooms were. The evening had turned out to have a number of firsts for him. As it was, his sisters had taught him the different dance styles since he was old enough to walk, and it was as if he'd always known how. But this was the first time he'd actually danced at a party, and as his partner, Trowa was a big difference from his sisters. He's also imbibed in wine for the first time. Actually, he'd tasted it before at different family gatherings, namely weddings since all of his sisters who'd left home had married. That was different from social drinking, and he was grateful Trowa had warned him not to drink too much. Sour as it had been, the warm glow was nice.

On his way back, there were still no signs of people, the sound of music faint and he knew he'd have to leave soon. He only hoped he could convince Trowa to stay for at least another hour or two, he wasn't in any hurry for the evening to end. But he didn't think the boy would argue too much, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself and Quatre had to admit his conceit as he'd convinced himself Trowa was only having fun because he was with him. His steps were quick as he moved to the stairs, and he paused as he thought he heard something behind him. Then he was falling.

.-.

Despite his initial worries, Trowa was glad they'd gone to the party. Quatre had obviously enjoyed it immensely, and the boy was still smiling when they reached his room. Pulling off his long black overcoat, Trowa paused when Quatre flinched. He'd been removing his own coat, but the boy went a bit slower as he pulled off the sleeve of his right arm. "Quatre. What's wrong?"

Quatre looked up sharply, and he flushed a bit when he saw Trowa's concerned gaze. "I'm all right," he said quickly, folding his coat. He winced and looked down as those green eyes narrowed and his lover stepped to him. "Really, it's nothing."

"Did you hurt yourself?" He thought quickly, but he couldn't think of anything they'd done that day which might have hurt the boy. Since Quatre seemed in no hurry to show him, he gripped the boy's wrist lightly as he undid the cuffs and pushed the white shirt back. As he'd thought, there was a bruise on the boy's arm, but it was larger than he'd expected. "What happened?"

Quatre sighed, humiliated by his clumsiness. Still, he hadn't liked hiding something from Trowa, and he was a bit relieved to be able to tell him. "I...fell down the stairs."

"What!" Staring at the blonde boy, Trowa frowned. "You fell? Why didn't you say something?"

"I was embarrassed," Quatre admitted, pulling away. He walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it as he met the boy's frown. "I'm not clumsy, Trowa, and I was afraid you'd want to leave."

"When did it happen," Trowa asked, sitting beside the boy as he wiped the frown from his face. He wasn't sure why Quatre would be embarrassed over an accident, but he accepted it as he knew the blonde was sensitive.

"On my way back from the restroom," Quatre said with a small smile. "You know? At first I was sure someone had pushed me. I mean, I was at the top of the stairs, I hadn't even started to go down when I just...pitched forward." He was looking at his hands, so he missed the way Trowa's face changed. "And I never lose my balance."

"Someone pushed you."

Trowa's cold voice made him blink sharply, and Quatre was surprised by the boy's dark expression. "Oh no. I just thought someone might have. When I hit the bottom, I looked and there wasn't any one there. I was just making excuses so I wouldn't have to admit I'd fallen down the stairs."

"No," Trowa said, his tone halting any arguments as he stared at the boy in rising anger. _I should have been there. I **knew** he was in danger._ Quatre looked confused, and he sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he knew he'd have to warn him. "Quatre, I've looked into Dorothy. I think she plans to kill you anyway. Which means, someone at that party was no doubt hired by her."

"Oh." The tall boy seemed absolutely sure, and Quatre glared suddenly. "Why won't she just leave me alone."

_Money_, Trowa thought, but he didn't say it. "I won't let her hurt you, Quatre. I'll protect you."

This made the blonde boy smile, and he suddenly wrapped his arms around Trowa's waist. "Thank you, Trowa. And don't worry, I'll make it easy. No more parties." He smiled when the boy blinked. "Well, I mean I won't take any risks. After all, if we're prepared, it's better that way. And I don't have to leave the house."

"I don't like the thought of you being made a prisoner in your own home," Trowa said softly. But he knew the boy would be much safer that way.

"Trowa," Quatre smiled, shaking his head. "To be honest, I never went out much anyway. I've been outside more since I met you than I have in years." His voice softened, and he brushed a light kiss over Trowa's lips. "And I'm so glad I met you...Trowa."

"Quatre." Trowa sighed and moved his arms around the slender boy, running his fingers through Quatre's thick hair. Then the boy kissed his neck and his eyes snapped open.

"Trowa," the blonde said softly, tilting his head as he kissed the boy's chin. "I was wondering if we could...that is..."

Trowa blinked again, but the blush he found on the pale boy's face told him everything. "Ah..."

Quatre blushed darker as the boy smirked at him, but he smiled. "Make love to me?" He was turned so quickly he couldn't help but let out a breathless giggle as he found himself on his back. "I'll take that as a yes!"

"Yes," Trowa nodded, his eyes glinting. Moving down, he took the boy's open mouth in a heated kiss. _God yes. I'll never get enough..._

The blonde boy gave a slow smile when the tall boy pulled back a bit, and he moved his hands to Trowa's chest. He didn't wait as his fingers flew over the white shirt, unbuttoning it quickly. It was a good thing Trowa had already undone the cuffs, because Quatre was obviously in a hurry. Between the two of them, they were bare within a minute or two and Quatre let out a soft moan as he pulled the tall boy down on him.

Kissing him, Trowa massaged the pale boy's chest. He let his fingers play with Quatre's nipples and he swallowed the boy's moan, loving the way that slender body pushed up against him. While nothing would have satisfied him more than to simply take him, Trowa broke the kiss and pushed himself up resolutely. The lustful frown that met him brought a smirk to his lips, and he was surprised when Quatre tried to pull him back down. "I'll be right back," he murmured, brushing a kiss over the boy's lips. "You know I will."

"Do you have to use something?" Quatre asked quickly. He didn't want to lose the boy's touch, even for a moment. "Couldn't we just--"

"It's necessary," Trowa said, shaking his head as he pulled away.

"I am _not_ fragile," Quatre muttered, folding his bare arms over his chest as he frowned up at the ceiling. "You aren't going to break me."

Pausing, Trowa's eyes glinted warmly at the boy's pout. "I'll never cause you pain, Quatre." Pale blue-green eyes moved to him, and he nodded sharply. It only took a few seconds to get the lotion from the bathroom, but his green eyes blazed strangely when he again stood beside the bed. "If you want forceful, I'm more than willing." The blonde boy's eyes widened, but he didn't resist when Trowa leaned down and pulled him off the bed. "But we do it _my_ way."

"Trowa, what..." Quatre blinked in confusion as he was led into the bathroom, and he blushed when the boy backed him into the tub. "Trowa..."

"You're being feisty, so I'm sure you'll like this," Trowa said quickly as he shut the door and joined the boy. Quatre gasped when he turned on the shower, having pulled the curtains, but the water grew warm quickly.

"I'm sure I'll love it," Quatre said uncertainly, as he brushed his wet bangs out of his eyes. "Anything with you, but...don't we have to be..."

"Lying down?" Trowa asked, licking his lips. His eyes made a slow journey over the boy and he stepped forward, pressing him to the wall. "No. We don't have to lie down. There are so many ways I want to make love to you, Quatre. This makes two."

Quatre blushed as he tried in vain to think of other ways, then his mind cleared as the boy's length touched his and he moaned at the feel of it. His previous urgency was quick to return, but he didn't rush the tall boy, closing his eyes when Trowa's mouth moved over his chest. The fall of the water on him was an odd distraction, but he loved the way Trowa's damp hair felt on his skin and he let his hands move over the boy's back. Outlining those firm muscles with his fingertips excited him, and he pulled the boy's head up so he could kiss him.

_-Lemon break:_

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.-.

It bothered him, leaving the boy in the middle of the night, and Trowa only hoped Quatre wouldn't wake up to find him gone. But he was sure the blonde would know or at least suspect where he'd gone if he did wake up. There really wasn't anything he could do about it, he had to learn about the person who'd tried to hurt Quatre. He was convinced Dorothy had hired someone, but without knowing the specifics and who she'd hired, he wouldn't know what to watch for. Pushing a boy down a flight of stairs was such a faulty method that he was sure the man the girl had hired was an amateur. Still, he wanted to be positive, and he headed out, weaving his way in blackness till he reached his destination. No one stopped him, and the few he passed were quick to look the other way. While he had tried to keep his identity a secret, there were certain people with whom it was easier to give a verbal warning than to kill. And he knew they wouldn't tell anything if asked. He had them completely cowed.

The door was barred when he knocked lightly on it, and Trowa stood still as the small slot slid open, shadowed eyes peering out at him. Then the bolt was drawn back quickly, and he nodded at the young woman who opened the door for him. It wasn't until she'd barred it again that she faced him.

"Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you?" she demanded, her hands on her hips as she frowned at the boy. "What have you been _doing_?"

"I..." Trowa frowned suddenly as he found he didn't really want to tell her. It wasn't that he didn't think she'd understand since Catherine had as much of a soft spot for innocents as he did, but the thought of telling her about Quatre made him want to blush. He didn't, of course, but he still wanted to. "I've been with Quatre Winner," he said finally, his green eyes steady as he took in the way the girl blinked at him.

"Wait...wasn't...isn't he the mark?" Catherine glared when the boy gave a sharp nod, not elaborating. "Okay, what's going on? First you leave, taking the job--I thought--and then that woman shows up looking for you and complaining that you've done nothing. Well, what's going on?"

"He's innocent." Trowa was gratified by the anger that crossed the girl's face, and he leaned against the wall. He knew she'd blame herself for having given him another case with an innocent target, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. She knew he'd look into it himself before acting, but she still tended to take the blame on herself. "I'm protecting him, now. The reason I came, is because someone tried to take him out. I need to know who."

"Well, do you know the woman?"

"Dorothy Catalonia."

"Okay." Catherine's eyes narrowed, and she leaned against the wall opposite him. "She's been looking everywhere for you. As far as I can tell, she hasn't gotten any good leads, but I do know that she's found someone else to take the job for her. Finelli."

"Him?"

The boy's eyelid twitched, the only evidence of his worry, and she shook her head quickly. "Not directly. One of his men, I don't know the name, but he's not very good. From what I've heard, the job is to kill Winner without it being an obvious murder attempt. I'm not saying it has to be an accident, there's been talk of maybe a robbery or something like that and he just happens to get killed as well." Trowa was glaring, and she frowned at the intensity in those green eyes. "Are you personally involved in this, Trowa?"

He knew why she asked, and Trowa glared at the floor. It wasn't like him to get personally involved, even if an innocent stood to suffer. Oh, he'd intervene, but he kept his own feelings out of it. But not with Quatre. "Yes, I...Catherine, I'm in love with him." She choked, and his lips twitched in a smirk. "I know."

"You...and you didn't tell me!" With an affronted glare, she raked the boy with her eyes. "So what? I'm just your informant now? You let me worry if someone's taken you out or something and here you are falling in love? Jerk."

"It's not like I planned it," Trowa said smoothly. They'd been together for years, and he understood why she'd be furious that he'd kept something from her. But there hadn't been too many opportunities to tell her, besides, it wasn't good news. "It doesn't matter, either. I intend to take care of Dorothy, and then I'll be back here."

"But...you said..." Catherine blinked as the boy's face closed, and she looked down sharply. "I see. I'm sorry, Trowa." The boy nodded, and she waved him toward the door. "If you left him alone, I guess you should probably get back quickly. That woman's job said to hurry."

"Yes."

.-.

He'd never woken so quickly, but Quatre was awake the moment a large hand clamped down over his mouth. Swallowing roughly, he kept very still as his eyes took in the shadowed figure leaning over him and he felt the emptiness beside him with a sinking heart. There was a bit of light in the room, and he knew without looking that the man had come in through the window. Then his eyes centered on a glinting blade as a long knife was waved in front of his eyes. _Where are you? Trowa..._

"Stay quiet and be still," the man whispered, his voice scratchy as he watched the pale boy. He wasn't too worried about the boy trying to scream since he'd noted the lock on the door and there was no way the females in the house would be able to break it before he escaped. "Where's your lover?"

_I wish I knew..._ The hand was removed from his mouth, but Quatre couldn't get his throat working as he shook his head. Then the cool side of the knife was pressed to his cheek and he managed a quick whisper. "I don't know."

"Really?" The man let out a soft laugh as he straightened, and he looked around the room with glinting eyes. "Wasn't expecting that. Well, just makes it easier then." Glancing back to Quatre, he waved the knife in front of the boy in warning. "Don't move."

Nodding quickly, Quatre watched the man step to his desk, the sounds telling him the man was rifling through the papers there. He wanted to cry, to yell at Trowa for deserting him when he'd promised to protect him, but his pride leapt up to smack him for his thoughts. _Stop it. I can't just sit and wait to be saved, that's so stupid. Maybe..._ His pale eyes followed the large form as the man moved to the dresser, and his breath sped up as he realized the man must not have looked in the middle drawer of his desk. _If I can get to my gun...oh God...it's not..._ His throat clenched, and he choked suddenly. _It's not loaded._ Eyes burning when the man turned, he felt his muscles lock and he couldn't have moved even if there'd been somewhere to run.

"You know, rich kid like you, I expected you to have more than this lying around." The man glared at the watch and small wad of money he'd found, but he shoved it into a pocket. With a shrug, he stepped to the bed, leaning down as he eyed the boy. "I'm going to kill you now." Those pale eyes glimmered in the dark, and he smirked when Quatre closed them quickly, jaw clenched. "But it's such a waste."

His heart stopped as he waited, still frozen, then he blinked when a hand brushed his cheek. Gasping a quick breath, he was confused, his eyes following the knife as the man set it down on the stand beside the bed. Then the man smiled at him, and his fear was back, twofold.

"I'll make you a deal," the man said softly, his fingers brushing the boy's forehead. "Be good and I'll let you live a little longer. Not much, but a few minutes should do." The boy's eyes where very wide, and he moved down, taking the open mouth suddenly.

His paralysis broken, Quatre moved quickly, shoving against the man's shoulders as he was pressed into the bed. Terrified of death, he knew it was better than this, and he whimpered when the man caught his wrists with seeming ease and pushed them against the pillow. He twisted as the man climbed onto the bed, and he gasped when the mouth left his as he prepared to scream. Then his wrists were released suddenly, a hand clamping over his mouth again just before a fist met with his stomach.

The boy jerked beneath him, his cry muffled, and the man's eyes glinted as he released Quatre's mouth. He gasped roughly, tears trailing from his eyes, but he didn't cry out loud and the man nodded sharply. "I said to be good," he said softly. "That doesn't include screaming." With a quick pull, he ripped the boy's shirt, pushing it aside as he crouched over him, his hands moving over the pale chest. The boy flinched back, struggling weakly and he ducked his head, sinking his teeth into the boy's shoulder as he again held a hand over his mouth to muffle his cry. Then surprisingly strong hands were pushing against him, and he pulled back, glaring down at the blonde boy.

Those pale eyes were wild with pain and tears, and he glared. His right hand curled into a fist, but the man hit Quatre's cheek with the back of his hand. The boy gasped, and the man paused, watching him carefully. The chest beneath him was rising and he could hear the boy's ragged breaths, but he didn't move. His eyes were glazed and the man nodded when Quatre lay still, his face turned away. He never expected what happened next, and he groaned and slumped forward as the boy's knee suddenly connected with his groin.

Shoving the man off him, Quatre rolled onto his side and fell off the bed. His hand flew over the stand, knocking the knife to the floor, and he grabbed it as he pushed himself onto his feet. Instinct screamed at him to use it, but he simply couldn't stab the man in the back, and he edged to the door, jumping when the man straightened suddenly and turned to look at him. He'd never used a knife before, and he nearly moaned when the man tackled him, his grip on the weapon lost as he was knocked back. The man must have given up on silence, as his forward motion sent them into the dresser and Quatre groaned as he hit the side of it. His wide eyes caught the way his attacker moved back a bit, and he ducked his head quickly, raising his arms as the man sought to hit him in the face. The blow landed on his arm with enough force to send him to his knees, and he stared at the rustling edge of the curtains with dazed eyes. Then he frowned as something moved by him, his mind slow to understand. _Trowa...?_

Trowa didn't think. Having seen the open window, he'd known immediately, and he rushed the man he found, his fist cracking against the man's jaw. The man stumbled, and his eyes widened in fear a second before the boy buried his fist into his stomach and he slumped to the floor. Following him, Trowa landed another blow before he heard something and he remembered Quatre. The pale boy was standing near the window, and he stood quickly as he crossed the room and pulled him into his arms. _I'm so sorry! Oh God, I'm sorry..._ The blonde boy's eyes were red, and he fell into the embrace, not even lifting his arms as he leaned against him. "Quatre..."

"I'm...okay..." He wanted to cry in the boy's arms, to have him just comfort him, but he took a sharp breath as he reminded himself of the man. Pushing back a bit, he curled his arms over his aching stomach and gave the tall boy a weak smile. "I'm so glad you came back, Trowa. Where did you go?"

"I went to find out...some things." Trowa's eyes burned at the way the slender boy seemed to sway, but Quatre had been the one to pull away. _He'll never forgive me...I should have been here...I promised I'd be here...to protect him._ The boy's eyes moved to the side, and Trowa's fists clenched as he remembered the man. "Dorothy hired him," he said coldly. "They want to kill you without it being an obvious murder attempt. I'm sorry, Quatre." Crossing the room, he bent as he retrieved a long knife, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he approached the fallen man.

"No! Trowa...please don't?" The tall boy flinched, but he didn't look up and Quatre took a slow step toward him.

"It's the only way," Trowa said softly. He suddenly wanted the boy to leave the room, and he thought about taking the man outside to do it. "Otherwise there's nothing to stop him from trying again."

"We can...call the police." Trowa turned sharply, and Quatre blinked before dropping his eyes. "We'll tell them it was an attempted robbery. He did take some things, so it's true."

"And what if they wonder where I was?" He wanted to kill him, the sight of the boy's unsteady stance and his ripped shirt made him want to do it slowly. But when Quatre looked at him, he knew he couldn't, those pale blue-green eyes were so haunted he couldn't bring himself to add more to the horrors he'd seen that night. "All right. I'll just tell them I was here, then." The blonde sighed softly, and Trowa stood.

"I should change..."

He seemed so lost, his head bowed so that Trowa couldn't see his face. Following him, Trowa laid a light hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, his eyes wide when Quatre was so slow to turn. "Quatre, are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Quatre said again, swallowing as his throat was dry. Then Trowa's eyes narrowed and he was suddenly pulled up against the boy's chest, strong arms circling him in a warm shielding embrace. With a choked cry, he collapsed against the boy, his arms holding tight to him as Trowa's cheek pressed against his hair. "Oh Trowa! I was so...scared..."

The boy seemed humiliated by the admission, and Trowa's eyes burned as he held him as close as he could. "I should have been here," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Quatre. You were defenseless...you were right to be scared."

"I forgot to load my gun." Tears spilled over, and Quatre pressed his face against Trowa's shirt, his eyes closed tightly. "I was so stupid. I'll never forget again, I swear I won't." He could tell from the movement in his hair that the boy was shaking his head, but it didn't help. "We should call the police now..."

"In a minute, there's time." Pressing a light kiss to the boy's soft hair, Trowa held him, his eyes closed. He couldn't stop imagining what he'd have found if he'd come back a few minutes too late, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

.-.

"They're kind of...colorful."

Trowa's eyes burned at the tremulous smile Quatre gave him, and his hands were ever so light as he touched the boy's stomach. The bruises were dark and mottled with different shades, and he shook his head at the thought of the boy's pain. Still, his face was worse, and just looking at the dark bruise on Quatre's cheek made him want to go and kill the man. The police had taken him, and the story, so he wouldn't be able to fulfill his desire. Instead, he pulled the blonde boy to him, brushing a light kiss over his lips. "You're still beautiful, Quatre. And you were very brave, never doubt that."

"I didn't think so," Quatre murmured, resting his uninjured cheek against the boy's neck as he cuddled closer to him in the bed. "I was pretty pathetic against him. I don't know how to defend myself."

"I'll teach you," Trowa promised, brushing a hand through the boy's hair. "And Quatre? I promise, I won't leave your side again. Not even for a moment."

Quatre sighed, a small smile curving his lips as the tall boy's strong arms tightened around his shoulders. "I know. That's one of the reasons I love you..." The boy stiffened at his soft words, but he held firm, staring at Trowa's chin. "I want you to know that, Trowa."

"Quatre..."

The boy's whisper was broken, and Quatre pushed himself up, staring into wide green eyes before giving him a light kiss. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I just...wanted you to know."

"I love you." The boy's smile made him melt, and Trowa gasped a quick breath, blinking as he gave a tiny nod. "I do."

"I hoped you would say that," Quatre smiled, unable to keep the grin from his face. "Oh, Trowa. I hoped you did." The boy was still staring at him, but he ducked his face back into the hollow of Trowa's neck, smiling against the warm skin. "I'm tired, now."

"Oh." With a mental slap to get his brain moving, Trowa pulled the quilt up over them. "Good...good night, Quatre." The slender boy sighed against his neck, and he let his lips move into a smile of his own. _He loves me...and maybe...my past won't matter._


	8. Chapter 8

Trowa was on guard, and his steps were silent on the carefully mown grass. Since the girls had gone to another party, he knew this would be the best opportunity for another attempt. With Dorothy a member of high society, there was no way the girl could possible fail to notice that Quatre had declined his invitation. So Trowa was ready. He would have been happier if he could have secreted Quatre somewhere else rather than actually having the boy as bait, but he was convinced someone would be watching the house. He'd had dealings with Finelli before, and he knew the man would not make the same mistake twice. Also, if he had anyone keeping an eye on them, he was bound to have recognized Trowa.

Reaching the back of the house, Trowa found his eyes drawn to Quatre's dim window. He'd made certain the boy locked the door and window, and he'd checked the other windows in the large house. For a moment, he wanted to just go inside and turn on the light. It was stupid, but he didn't like the thought of him sitting up there in the dark. He dropped his eyes, lifting his hand to remind himself of the gun he held beneath his open coat. The automatic was cool, but he sighed, well aware that he couldn't put the boy from his mind so easily. His eyes continued their sweep of the grounds, and he didn't drop his guard, but his mind was wondering off. He couldn't help but think of what they'd spoken of the other night, the ramifications of which he was still trying to grasp.

For as long as he could remember, he'd spent his life as a mercenary for hire, brought up by a group of such people. Catherine had entered his life more than seven years ago, and their association had given him a freedom, as she became his informant. That was the life he knew, he was comfortable in that. Now, he found himself wondering if it would be possible to leave it all, to just go on as he was now, as the boy's lover and protector. With Quatre, there'd be no reason for him to take jobs that involved murder, but the thought of taking money from the boy made his stomach churn. The first time they'd made love had eliminated the possibility of him accepting payment for the 'job' Quatre had hired him for. He didn't want the boy's money, of course he didn't.

There was only one thing he could think of that would cause him to accept payment. If he had the money, he'd get Catherine out of that district. He knew the girl was capable of caring for herself, but he would have liked to know that she was safe, especially since he wouldn't be with her anymore. Quatre's admission had removed any chance of his leaving, even once the boy was safe. The boy loved him, and there was no way he'd hurt him by leaving, not when he so obviously wanted him there. He knew Quatre's sisters would accept it if he were to live there permanently, and while he thought they'd eventually push them toward marriage, that was one decision he wouldn't bend. He didn't doubt Quatre's love for him, but marriage was sacred to him, he'd never let the boy enter into such a binding contract of lifelong commitment without knowing the full truth. He had nothing to offer the boy aside from himself, and his blood-tainted past was not something he ever intended to share.

It wasn't a sound that made his eyes narrow suddenly, but a feeling, and Trowa stilled, letting his instincts rule. With catlike movements, he stayed close to the wall, rounding the corner but staying in the shadows. The front of the house was brighter than the back with lamps near the street, and the man was easily spotted. He was standing across the street, the shadows thrown from the tree he leaned against hiding his face but doing nothing to conceal his presence. Obviously, he didn't feel a need to hide and Trowa's muscles tensed. The openness of the man's presence told him this attempt was definitely planned more carefully, and he sensed the person across from him was a professional. Looking at the front of the house, Trowa searched for signs of forced entry, but there weren't any. That didn't mean anything, though, and he turned, going to the back of the house again.

There were no signs here, and he was certain no one had come in the few seconds of his absence. No, the man was watching the front, and he was convinced someone had gained entry from that side, meaning, the intruder would be making his way toward Quatre. It seemed like years since he'd watched the blonde boy climb down the trellis beneath his window, but Trowa climbed it now, his gun hanging from the strap slung around his neck. His light taps on the window were very quiet, but the curtain shifted immediately, and Quatre peeked at him then hurried to let him in.

"They're here," Trowa whispered. Quatre was armed, and he handed the boy an extra clip and watched as he quickly slipped it into his pocket. Trowa took his arm, directing him toward the bathroom just in case. "Stay in here, no matter what, okay?"

The boy nodded quickly, and turned to follow his orders. Trowa caught him at the doorway and kissed him suddenly, Quatre's arms holding him tight. Then the boy backed into the small room, and he waited till the newly installed lock slid home before turning back to the window. Crossing the room, Trowa glanced out the window, his narrowed eyes scanning the darkened yard but not seeing anything. Locking it again, he closed the curtains and slipped out the door. The hall was dim, as he'd left it, and he watched the stairway, knowing the intruder would have at least learned which room was Quatre's. With this in mind, he moved into one of the girls' bedrooms, the door closed enough to hide him but still giving a view of the hall. Then was the wait.

Silence filled the large house, Quatre had sent all of the servants away, but Trowa was well aware; a professional could move without making noise. His hand tightened reflexively when a soft creak came from his right; someone was coming up the stairs. Reaching into his coat, he drew the gun up to his chest, his eyes glued on the hall visible through the crack in the door. A moment passed, then he caught a shadow moving forward and he moved.

The scream registered first, and Trowa rocked back on his heels, eyes wide, then he lowered the gun quickly. The girl was panting, one hand curled over her chest and he recognized her immediately as one of Quatre's sisters, Karen.

"What's happening!" the girl cried, her voice bordering on hysterics.

Trowa didn't answer as his eyes flew over her shoulder, a click sounding in the hall and he shoved her suddenly, his shoulder knocking her to the floor. Raising his gun, he leveled it on the figure who was crouched on the stairs, but he lunged forward when the man fired. Heat clipped his shoulder, but Trowa didn't slow, and he hit the man hard, the gun flying back. Together, they fell down the stairs, the man striking the wall where the staircase curved. Pushing to his knees, Trowa gripped the man's wrists as the intruder tried to wrestle his gun away from him. He could hear the girl screaming at the top of the stairs, and he chanced a look to her, but she was alone and his attention was turned when a bullet buried itself in the wall over his head. He ducked quickly, burying his fist in the man's stomach then rolling to the side. The man was limp when he pulled him up, and he had no compulsions about using him as a human shield. His arm was curved around the man, and he aimed his gun at the man crouched at the foot of the stairs. The man dove down, disappearing around the corner. Cursing, Trowa dropped the man. The girl was crying, crouched in the corner of the hall, but he didn't take the time to worry about her as he punched the unconscious man, making certain he wouldn't wake. Then he took off in pursuit.

.-.

Quatre had never heard one of his sisters scream in terror before, but he knew that was what he was hearing now. The sound of gunshots made his heart clench and he gripped the doorknob, desperate to do something, anything. His heart was racing and he jerked when the girl screamed again, dim thuds reached him and his hand closed over the lock, shoving it back. He had made up his mind when he heard something much closer to him, glass shattering. It was his window, he knew, but the girl was still crying. There was no way the intruder would ignore the sounds, and he held his gun against his chest, turning the knob slowly, quietly. Then he jerked the door open and ducked back, pressing against the wall. The mirror across from the door was immediately riddled with multiple bullets, and he pulled the door open a bit wider, his hand holding the doorknob so he was hidden behind it.

Swallowing roughly, he leaned forward, squeezing off a shot at the dark silhouette before jerking back behind the door. The man returned fire, but Quatre found himself calmer now as the screaming had stopped, but he worried that the silence might not be a good sign. He released the doorknob and sank down, crouching behind the door. This time, when he leaned into the doorway, he had a clean lock on the man and he squeezed the trigger, the gun bucking in his hands. The man reeled back at the first impact, then he jerked and fell, silence once again filling Quatre's ears. Shoving himself to his feet, his eyes swept over the man before snapping away just as quickly.

His stance was a bit unsteady, but his heart was racing and the silence from the house only worried him more. Gun in hand, he ran to the door, jerking it open easily as Trowa hadn't locked it earlier and his eyes lit on the girl huddled in the corner. "Karen." At his light whisper, the girl looked up, and she let out a low moan, sobbing. Despite her obviously shaken state, the girl met him halfway and he was nearly knocked down by the force of her embrace. "Shh, it's okay. Are you all right?"

The girl nodded, but he didn't take that for an answer, holding her back a bit so he could look over her pale green coat. He couldn't see any blood, no wounds, and he drew her back, toward the nearest bedroom. It was too risky to leave her in the hall, and he needed to move. "Trowa..."

"Stop right there!"

Karen's eyes grew huge, and Quatre froze, looking over her shoulder at the man who crouched at the top of the stairs. A large gun was held on them, but his body was shielded behind the girl's taller stature, and his hands flew. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he loaded his gun as quickly and with as little sound as possible. A glance upward found Karen's eyes on him, and he gave a tiny shake of his head, grateful when she took a shaky breath, her hand tightening on his back. He moved his head so the man wouldn't see his lips, and his whisper was a mere breath. "It'll be okay, I promise."

With his eyes on the gunman, he moved out from behind his sister, standing still and showing his empty hands. Then his right arm lifted slowly, and he pressed her into one of the bedrooms, infinitely grateful when the man made no move to stop him. "She's not involved," he said slowly, holding his hands out in front of him.

The boy was harmless, and the man didn't spare a single glance for the door the girl had gone through. He was thinking of the mercenary who'd tackled him earlier, and he knew Nanashi would be back. They'd only come with four men and there was no way Finelli would risk his own life in such an open area. There'd be no help from him, and he had no intention of dying. The job had been to kill the boy as soon as he had a shot, and there was the chance that Kegar and Len would finish off the other one, but he doubted things would be that simple. If the other two failed, the blonde would serve as a hostage in case Nanashi returned before he could get out of the house.

Quatre waited impatiently, his eyes taking in the dark bruise on the man's face and he was sure Trowa was responsible. He wanted to look down the stairs, afraid he might find the boy there, but he didn't dare move. Then the man waved his free hand, and Quatre walked to him, not showing any hints of rebellion. He winced when the man grabbed him, his arm twisted behind him as if to remind him of his helplessness. The stairs abruptly came into view as he was turned, held in front of the intruder, and he stumbled, shoved forward.

"We're going outside now," the man said roughly, pressing his gun against the boy's neck. He was answered with a nod, and he prodded him again. "Down the stairs, quick."

It was hard to walk with the increasing pressure the man was putting on his arm, and Quatre stumbled again. The man didn't seem to realize he was pressing him down more than forward, but he said nothing. His mind was flying, and he was wondering if he should do something now, when the man was so focused on getting out of the house. He wasn't a very good shot with his left hand, but the range was so close he didn't think accuracy would be a problem. No, the problem was the girl upstairs, and he knew that without him as a hostage the man would definitely go for her. There was no choice but to wait; if anything happened to her, he'd die just a surely as he would if the man made it outside.

He was so close, he'd almost relaxed when the door was thrown open, and he shoved the gun tight against the boy's neck, mindless of the way he choked. His entire attention was focused on the boy who stood in the doorway. Blood was dripping off his dark shirt, his arm covered in it, but a long automatic was leveled on them, green eyes blazing. For a moment, he felt fear, and he swallowed roughly. "Nanashi..." The boy's eyes narrowed more at this, and he suddenly remembered his hostage, pulling Quatre close against him.

"What are you going to do?" the man asked, turning the gun and digging it into the blonde boy's skin till he made a small sound of pain. The boy across from him flinched in reaction. "You want to save him, right? It wouldn't do you any good to shoot me, he'd be dead too, then."

"You are not getting through this door alive." The man blinked at the sheer lack of emotion in his voice, and Trowa was very careful not to look at Quatre. He couldn't risk it.

His own laughter sounded fake in his ears, but he managed a smirk at the boy, trying to hide his nervousness. "You're afraid I'll kill him once I'm clear. Well, you're probably right, but which would you prefer? My killing him now, because of you? Or later?"

"Neither," Trowa murmured, his voice a devoid monotone. "If you kill him, you're dead. And you know it. It's a standoff." He didn't move, but his eyes flicked upward, over the man's shoulder and he caught sight of movement on the stairs. He wasn't sure if his unspoken message was understood, and he quickly returned his gaze to the man in front of him. Then the girl cried out Quatre's name, and Trowa's muscles clenched. The man's head turned, pinpointing the source, and Trowa fired, lined up as he was visible over Quatre's shoulder.

Karen screamed at the spray of blood, then she sagged to the carpeted stairs. The man had pitched forward, but Trowa knew his shot had been accurate as he'd seen the man's face disintegrate. Crouching beside them, he shoved the body off Quatre and pulled the boy into his arms. His eyes were closed, and Trowa winced at the blood and gore that had showered his face. The right side of his own shirt was soaked, but he lifted the clean side, wiping gently. Hours seemed to pass before pale blue-green eyes flicked open, and he groaned, holding Quatre as tightly as possible without hurting him. For a moment, he hid his face against the boy's shoulder, then his eyes snapped open, staring at the floor.

There was one more, at least one more as he hadn't seen the man who'd been by the tree earlier. This was his chance, to get them all, and he was prepared to track the man back to Dorothy if it came to that. But he didn't know if the man had hung around or not, he could even be inside the house. Trowa's hands clenched around Quatre's shirt, and he knew he couldn't leave the boy to look, but he couldn't risk being shot in the back either. With this in mind, he pulled Quatre to his feet, supporting him whether he needed it or not.

His heart was racing in his chest, and he leaned against Trowa, absorbing what he could of the boy's seemingly endless strength. The he straightened suddenly, eyes wide as he turned toward the stairs. Trowa didn't hold him when he jerked away, and he ran to the girl, remembering how she'd distracted the gunman. He was grateful, but he knew he'd have to yell at her later for having done something so foolish. If there was a later. The girl seemed to be fine, and he pulled her up, leaning against the wall. Trowa was still standing where he'd left him, and he stared at the boy, his eyes moving over the bloody cloth slowly. "Is it over, Trowa?"

"I don't know..."

.-.

He was surrounded by people, but Quatre had eyes only for the boy who was moving steadily toward the door. They hadn't spoken, but he knew Trowa was going to find Dorothy, to finish it for good and he wished he could join him. Despite his lack of experience with such things, he was sure he could have been of some help. But he knew he was fooling himself. _I'd just get in the way, I wouldn't be helping him, I'd put him in more danger just by being there._ No one really seemed to notice when Trowa left the room, and he could hear his sisters talking around him. The police asking them questions since he'd already given his own account. He couldn't look at them, couldn't tear his eyes away from that closed door. _I'll never see him again._

It was a completely irrational thought, but he could feel his body growing cold, and he huddled on the couch, closing his eyes. There had been something in those green eyes when Trowa had looked at him last; he couldn't deny the finality of that gaze. _Even if he lives...he won't come back..._ Ireia was saying something, but he didn't hear it, his own low cry drowning her out as he shoved off the couch and bolted for the door.

.-.

"Trowa Barton, wasn't it? I must say, I'm surprised to see you, and so late at night, too."

The girl blinked at him, and Trowa glared, his left eyelid twitching at her innocent expression. They were beyond pretenses, yet she seemed eager to continue to play the game. The man who'd led him to the room shut the door behind him, but he didn't glance back, his eyes glued on the girl's dark eyes. Then he stiffened suddenly.

"Well, _I'm_ not surprised."

Turning his head slowly, Trowa stared at the man who slowly moved out from behind the curtains behind him. He recognized the coat as the one the watch-out had worn, but that didn't matter. He also recognized the man's face. Ignoring the gun Finelli held, he pulled his own hands out of the deep pockets of his coat and held his arms out. A black gun shone in each hand, and he turned, just a bit so they were aimed at both the man and the girl. "Convenient," he said slowly, his voice void of any emotion as his eyes flicked between them. "I can kill both of you at once."

"You fool," Dorothy muttered, moving back a few steps despite her brave words. "You can't kill me, you'll be dead."

"You die first, then him."

The boy's voice made her shiver, and Finelli smirked, catching Trowa's eye. "Put down the gun, Nanashi." He hadn't expected a response, and he got none. "Fine, kill her, but you won't get past me alive."

"What! You traitor!"

The girl seemed honestly shocked, horrified even, and he laughed at her, a wide smile curving his lips. "I don't care about your money. I never did. I just used you as an excuse to get to Nanashi. With him gone, I will rule this city." Dorothy's eyes had narrowed to slits, and he smirked when her hand slipped behind her, going for her own gun. Glancing at the tall boy, he noted that those cold green eyes were still on him. "One thing before I kill you, Nanashi. I never wanted your little blonde." The boy didn't move, and he leaned forward a bit, his voice dropping. "I prefer redheads; Cathy says hi."

Trowa's scream sounded a moment before the shots, and he fired both guns simultaneously.


	9. Chapter 9

The bed was too big, empty without the presence beside him. But it didn't matter since he wasn't planning to sleep. Oh, he'd caught a few hours on the couch in the main room, but Ireia kept sending him back to his room. As if it were better for him. He couldn't sleep in his room anymore, too many memories. Even now he could almost feel strong arms around him, warmth pressed to his cheek. The flickering darkness of the wall across from him dispelled the dream, his eyes dull from staring at nothing. Trowa wasn't coming back.

Reports of Dorothy's death had stunned his family, and he was certain Ireia had connected the girl with their own recent incidents. But she hadn't asked, she'd merely mentioned the coincidence then dropped it. They were all like that, walking on thin ice around him, afraid to set him off as if he could possibly be more miserable than he already was. His sister wasn't the only one who'd made a connection between Dorothy's death and the attack on him. The police had shown up, asking questions that he refused to answer. They pushed, but eventually they left with nothing. He was left with the knowledge that two other people had been injured in the same room in which Dorothy died. Two blood types besides hers had been found, and one of them was surely Trowa's.

If they had found a body, he might have eventually reconciled himself to living alone. But they hadn't, and his hope that the boy lived was at odds with the betrayal he felt. If Trowa was out there, he was keeping his distance. Christopher was staying with them, more for Ireia's benefit than for protection. Quatre didn't mind since he liked the man, and Christopher had instigated a search of the city. But it turned up nothing. He hadn't expected it to, despite the man's high hopes. If Trowa didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. It was that simple. Quatre's eyes flicked closed for a moment, then he shifted on the bed, sitting and swinging his legs over the edge.

He walked to the window, touching the curtains with a reverent expression. He could still remember standing there, looking down at Trowa, opening he window so the boy could climb inside. The trellis was gone now, torn down so no one could ever try to enter his room again. That was what Ireia had said, but Quatre knew it was to keep him inside. They wouldn't let him search for himself. Twice Christopher had caught him trying to leave and he was surprised they hadn't decided to lock him inside his room. A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision, a dark figure moving out of sight. For a moment he stared in a gush of hope, then he shook his head, one hand rubbing at his temples. It wasn't the first time he'd had visions when looking into the dark outside his room. Once he'd been ready to open his window and call down. But on a second glance, there'd been nothing, no one at all. It was the same now, and he knew that. He still moved toward the door of his room, pausing only to pull on a pair of shoes. No matter how many visions or imaginings he had, he couldn't let one go by without being absolutely sure.

Karen was gone. She'd left a day ago, and he was convinced the house held too much uncertainty for her. She'd never forgive it for allowing someone to threaten her and her family. But another of his sisters was due to give birth to her first child, and Karen had moved in with her for that reason. It left her room empty, and Quatre slipped inside quietly. Christopher was a good sentry if a person were trying to sneak out the front door. But the man would never dream of going into Karen's old bedroom. The girl had left items there, and he wouldn't intrude. Quatre had no suck qualms. They would have been surprised to find out that he'd already managed to sneak out of the house twice, using the new exit. His cloak was hidden in the closet behind some of Karen's old dresses, and he pulled it over his shoulders. There was no trellis climbing the wall, but the large pear tree was close enough to the window to make an even better ladder. Barely two minutes passed before he was standing on damp grass in the back of the large house.

The shadow had flickered near the corner to the right of his room. Moving in that direction, Quatre had to admit he was not helping himself cope with Trowa's loss. He knew, but didn't really care. The back of the yard was dark and empty. His heart fell again, his eyes dropping to the grass as he continued to walk forward until he could lean against the tree in the corner of their property. There were no tears left, he'd used them all up and his eyes remained dry as he closed them tightly. He had to stop doing this.

"Quatre Winner?"

Despite his preoccupation, Quatre had taken no chances since Trowa's disappearance. His gun was in his hand before the words registered, his arm raised as he turned quickly. Dark eyes blinked at him from above, and he jerked in surprise as he saw a girl not much older than him. But he didn't relax. She also held a gun that was pointed at his head. For a split second he wondered at the oddity of the situation, then he realized she was smirking at him.

"From the way you hold a gun, you don't look very innocent." The boy frowned at her and she lowered her weapon, slipping it out of sight. "It figures Trowa would fall for a blonde."

"You know Trowa!"

The boy nearly dropped his gun, catching it and shoving it into a pocket before leaning against the tree. Wide, pale eyes stared up at her, and Catherine suddenly knew why Trowa had decided to protect the boy. "Yeah, but I guess he never mentioned me." Quatre shook his head, the hope not leaving his face.

"Did Trowa send you here?"

"Nope." The boy's shoulders drooped, and she snorted before dropping to the ground beside him. "Looks like he left both of us in the wake. The name's Cathy," she said, extending a hand, "nice to finally meet you, Quatre."

.-.

He was tired, but there was no place he could go. Quatre's family had obviously spent a good fortune looking for him, and it was the first time he'd ever had to elude people with pictures of him. It would have been detrimental to his career if he hadn't already given that up. There was no way he could continue in the city without an informant. And he couldn't replace Catherine.

Finelli's last words had set him off, and he'd made a crucial mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He'd killed the man without finding out where Cathy was. He'd delivered the man's body to the rest of the cartel, and they were as good as finished. They'd been terrified that he would continue to kill the rest of them, and he knew they hadn't lied when they'd claimed to have no knowledge of any girl fitting Cathy's description. In fact, none of his inquiries had turned up anything. She hadn't been public, but she had numerous connections. Yet she'd disappeared without a trace, right after his last contact with her. The worst thought that Trowa imagined was that she'd still been alive when he killed Finelli, that she died because no one knew where she was. He should have thought of that.

But he hadn't stopped looking, he was like Quatre in his stubbornness. He spent as much time avoiding the boy's searches as he did instigating his own, but neither found its target. It was nearly four days before he returned to the girl's home, the place where he'd seen her last. He'd been by multiple times, but he never stayed, it was too painful. Yet he couldn't help but return again and again. There was the possibility that she'd gotten wind of Finelli's intentions and had hidden. If that were the case, she might come back there. The alley was deserted when he entered it, and he could tell just by looking that the door hadn't been touched since his last visit. There was no point entering the place, but he moved forward anyway. Then he paused, his hand near the knob as his eyes narrowed. His eyes snapped to the side and he glared at the figure standing near the mouth of the alley. A large handgun was aimed at him and a second passed before he realized it was aimed low.

"Run...and I'll knee-cap you." One visible green eye widened at his words and Quatre shook his head, the hood of his black cloak falling to his shoulders.

"Quatre..." For a long minute he was frozen, his stunned mind taking in every feature, pausing on the shadows beneath the boy's beautiful eyes. His fingers brushed the gun he'd been reaching for and he remembered himself, blinking abruptly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the one who should be asking you that question," Quatre said. It was hard to keep his voice low, and he wanted nothing more than to run to the boy and grab him. All his fears were washed away. But his anger wasn't feigned any more than his previous threat and he knew that anger would be the key. "Why didn't you come back?"

"I finished the job." The words sounded hollow in his mouth, but it was the only excuse he could give. Then he flicked his eyes away. "There was no reason for me to come back." The lie hurt, but he had no time to wallow in his own pain. A sharp click broke the silence and his eyes flew back to the blonde boy.

"Try again," Quatre murmured, not the least bit hurt. He could practically see how much those false words had hurt the boy. Trowa was staring at his gun in evident confusion, and he held his back straight when the boy frowned suddenly.

"Quatre, put that away. You aren't going to shoot me." The blonde actually raised an eyebrow at that and he found himself wondering, seriously wondering if the fury he could feel was coming from the slight figure in front of him. The gun hadn't faltered any more than that straightforward gaze. No excuses were going to be accepted. Besides, he owed the boy more than that. He had to remember, Quatre was in love with him. "There is no point in my coming back," he said again, his voice softer this time though it rang with an underlying current of ice. "The only thing I could have ever offered you was my protection. I can't protect anyone. I have nothing, and I won't take you down with me."

"That's so sweet, but you don't expect to get away with something so self-sacrificing as that, do you? I don't think you have any idea how much you scared him, he's very angry with you, Trowa."

His breath stopped and he turned so fast he knocked himself off balance for a moment. "Cathy!" The shocked cry barely made it past his lips before he moved, nearly lunging at the girl. The gun she raised threw him and he stopped suddenly, not bothering to hide his confusion.

"Surprised to see me? First things first, Trowa. You have some answering to do." Meeting Quatre's gaze, Catherine took in the boy's sharp nod. Her eyes moved back to Trowa and she glared at him. "Where the hell have you been!"

"Me!" Trowa couldn't remember the last time his voice had risen so high, but he couldn't seem to cope with what was happening. "I've looked everywhere for you. I thought you were dead. Finelli said-"

"As if I'd just sit around and wait for him to catch me. You know better than that. You didn't actually think I was dead...did you?" The boy nodded slowly and she finally noticed how pale his face was. "Oh, Trowa...I was hiding. I just got word that Finelli had been killed, yesterday. Then, I started looking for you."

"I see. I'm glad you're okay...Cathy." He should have known better, and part of him berated himself for having doubted her. She'd survived the streets long enough, she didn't need him. "I should have known you could take care of yourself."

Catherine nodded, feeling an urge to hug the boy. But she didn't forget her reason for coming. "So, you were looking for me. It's flattering that you'd forget everything from worrying, but as you can see I'm just fine. And you won't have to worry about me anymore because I've found new employment. Which means, you can go back with Quatre now."

"No, I planned to leave the city anyway. If you won't need me, then there's no reason for me to stay." The girl glared, but Trowa refused to say anything more. He didn't glance at the boy behind him.

"No reason?"

"If I were you," Catherine commented, "I'd shoot him for that." The blonde boy nodded and she looked at Trowa. "You told me before that you'd have to leave after the job was over. Back then, I figured it was something to do with him not wanting you, but I get it now. You were just thinking about yourself, you never gave a thought of him. I really expected more from you, Trowa. I've never known you to be so selfish."

"You don't understand." He could hear Quatre moving closer, and it was difficult not to glance at him. "He doesn't know what I am. I am thinking of him, I'm doing the best thing I can for him." Catherine snorted softly, but he had closed his eyes. After a few moments of preparing himself, he turned to face Quatre. The boy looked stronger than he remembered, as if he were fueled by something that made him determined. But he was wrong. "You shouldn't be here. I'll take you back."

"Good," Quatre said quickly, lowering his gun. "But don't think you're going to disappear after that. I planned to take you home with me, but you can lead the way if you like."

"I'm not staying."

"Yes you are," Cathy argued. "I don't think you understand what's happening here, Trowa. You've been a real jerk to Quatre, but I guess I can forgive you since you were worried about me. But that's all settled now, there's no excuse for you hurting him more." The tall boy's shoulders tensed, and Catherine knew he resented her words. He didn't like hurting Quatre, she knew that. He honestly thought he was acting in the boy's best interests, that was the sad part. "See, when Quatre told me that you were avoiding him, I agreed to help him. I did want to find you, after all. And we're going to take you back to his place. My new job is to make sure you stay there."

"Cathy." The girl gave him a soft smile, but it did nothing to end the conflict inside him. He understood what she was saying. Quatre had hired her to help get him, if he didn't go back with the boy then she would have no job except the one she'd occupied before. Here was a chance for him to solve two of the major problems he'd had. Catherine would be off the streets without his having to accept money from the blonde boy, and he would have an excuse to stay. "Don't you see? He's completely clean, Cathy. How could I ruin him more than I already have?"

"I told him your past," Catherine said softly. The tall boy's eyes widened, and he stiffened. "He says it doesn't make any difference to him." Trowa's eyes were blank for so long that she wanted to lay a hand on his arm. Then he glared at her, the green filled with fury so that she wanted to step back.

"I _never_ wanted him to know..." Suddenly Trowa didn't care that she'd meant to help him, didn't care who she was. She'd had no right. "How could you."

"Trowa...?" Quatre couldn't see the boy's face, but his eyes widened at Catherine's expression. "Trowa, I already knew. I've known since you left. One of those men called you Nanashi. Ireia's fiancé looked into it for me. You can't blame Cathy." He stepped forward slowly until he stood behind Trowa. "I know everything, and I don't care." Muscles flinched when he wrapped his arm around the boy's waist, and he sighed before leaning his forehead against Trowa's back. "I love you so much, Trowa. Please don't make me shoot you."

"Her fiancé...?"

Quatre opened his eyes, looking at Trowa's dark coat. "Christopher. I don't think you ever met him, but he's been staying with us since you left, mostly to keep an eye on me. They were afraid I would do something rash. And I may, yet. Trowa, you have no idea what I've been going through. If I have to shoot you and drag you back with me...then I'll do it. I swear I will."

"Quatre...you would never hurt someone you love. You don't have it in you." The arms tightened around him, and Trowa dropped his eyes, a small smirk curving his lips.

"You two are so cute," Cathy murmured, smiling at them. Trowa glanced up at her and she tilted her head to the side, hefting her gun so he could see it. "If he won't do it, then I can knock you out, and help him drag you back. Either way, we'll see you where you belong."

Quatre nodded against Trowa's back, not loosening his grip. "With me."

"You're saying I have no choice in the matter?" Cathy grinned at him, and he could feel Quatre's head moving against him. "I might run away again."

"I'll find you," Quatre said immediately, though he noticed the boy's voice didn't sound as hard as before.

"And I'll help him. But next time we won't let you off so easily."

Raising an eyebrow at the red-haired girl, Trowa frowned. "When did the two of you become such good friends?"

"When we thought we'd lost you."

"Quatre..." He could see a light blush marring Catherine's cheeks and he gave a low, drawn out sigh. "I guess if I have to choose, I'd prefer walking to being dragged."

"See, Quatre?" Cathy smiled, "I told you he'd see it our way."

.-.  
_TBC_

**_-notes-  
_**There will be an epilogue for this, not quite another part, just a little add-on. So the fic isn't quite over.


End file.
